


You've Got Mail

by DestinyFreeReally



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: F/M, You've Got Mail AU, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-09-24 21:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9787316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyFreeReally/pseuds/DestinyFreeReally
Summary: Sometimes, life crosses the path you're on with a person who's exactly right for you. Sometimes life crosses the path you're on with a person who exactly isn't. And sometimes, they're the same person.





	1. It's Not Romance

  “It’s not… it’s not a  _ romance, _ we just talk.” Veronica Mars stacked books in her father’s bookstore, tossing blonde hair over her shoulder at Wallace, as if to further her point. “We don’t even talk about…  _ anything _ , we don’t know each other. It’s just.. Nothing.” Shaking her head, she couldn’t help but think about it, him; the mystery man from a chat room she’d almost not even clicked on. “There’s nothing  _ romantic _ about it. Seriously, stop with the face you're making.”   
  
    Handing her another couple of books, Wallace was sure his skeptic-at-best grin was the necessary face for the occasion. In the nine years he had known her, Veronica had dated only a couple of guys, briefly, with little-to-nothing to write home about those men. Faceless Californians who’d misjudged her for one of them. Since working shoulder-to-shoulder with her in her dad’s old bookstore, Wallace has learned a lot about Veronica Mars, and he’s never seen her excited about even the  _ prospect _ of romance. He’s pretty sure he’s never seen her excited about anything that wasn’t work-related.   
  
    “Hey, I  _ don’t  _ think it’s romantic, I think the guy could be a serial killer, but that stupid smile you’re wearing says you, Veronica, have been bitten.” Helping her down off the ladder, Wallace nodded at the new stock they’d gotten in.  _ Mars’ Shop _ was a hole in the wall, a lovable relic to a time long gone, like Veronica’s dad. But with Veronica’s spit and sweat to shine it, Mac to do the books, and Wallace to stay up front and be the  _ people _ person, it’s not too hostile a work environment. “Bitten by the  _ love bug. _ ”   
  
    “I’m  _ serious _ , it’s really nothing. He’s just a nice guy who I talk to my day about. Plus, think of all the heat he takes off you, if I can whine to him about my morning commute.” Like she’d won, Veronica smiled, flipping the store’s sign to  _ Open _ on the door. Her life was quiet for the most part, some would probably term it boring. Once in awhile, that bothered her, but some days, coming in to open the store was all she wanted to do.   
  
    “What’s nothing?” Mac piped up from the backroom. Glasses dangling dangerously close to the tip of her nose, Mac shifted them back and refocused on Veronica and Wallace. Employed at  _ Mars’ _ for over five years, Mac was still the new girl to a crowd of lead-footed people. It was one of Mac’s favorite jokes, that Veronica was a commitmentphobe for everything  _ but _ her dad’s store.    
  
    “Veronica’s in love with a guy she met in an online chatroom.” Wallace used a book to point across the store, still laughing.    
  
    “I’m not in  _ love,  _ we  _ email _ , god I regret telling you already.” Even if the frequency of those emails had been steadily increasing over the last couple of  weeks, and their conversations had turned decidedly personal, even without all the personal details. It’s a rule they have, deliberate obscurity; explicitly tracing the outline of each other’s masks without actually ripping them off.    
  
    “Ooo, you  _ email _ , what a good story to tell your future kids.” Mac bumped Veronica’s shoulder to earn herself a glare. Coincidentally, a customer came in, and Veronica was able to put work first again, tucking away thoughts and taunts of  _ CA152, _ her email buddy.   
  


* * *

  
  
    With his coffee, Logan sat at his office desk, patiently waiting for the internet to beep it’s beeps and get on with it, waiting for the familiar  _ ding _ of his e-mail box indicating a message.  _ Ding. _   
  
   “Let’s see how  _ Shopgirl’s _ morning is going.” He talked outloud to no one, ignoring the emerging routine where a stranger he’d never met captivated an alarming amount of his thoughts. Knowing nothing about her hasn’t stopped him from being half in love with her already, with her sense of humor, at the very least. From weeks of near-daily conversations all he’s managed to really parse out is that the woman in question kept a terrible diet, (who eats ice cream for a dinner meal?), and that she had a dog she loved very much.  _ Back-Up. _ Logan’s never had a dog, but it sounded an awful lot like a second job to him.  _ Right, jobs. _ The thing he was supposed to be at, working at, doing the job thing. In theory, his  _ Shopgirl _ could wait, that was how email worked now; he  _ could _ respond to her later. He could. Clicking open her waiting message, he could also read it just then.   
  
_   To: CA152, _ __   
__   
_     Really? A California native who likes to start his day by surfing? Gotta tell you, that sounds… like the most cliche lie ever it actually makes me believe you. Up before dawn, though? Regularly? Did we meet because you accidentally forgot the way to the Masochist’s Chatroom? The only time I’m awake before dawn is when Back Up does the whine where he’s actually telling me in dogspeak that he’s about to pee on the floor if I don’t get out of bed and walk him immediately. _ __   
__   
_     From, _ __   
__   
_       Shopgirl _ __   
__   
_ P.S. There is in fact a chatroom for masochists. Out of curiosity, I clicked, and let me tell you, this kitty’s dead alright.  _ __   
__   
    Logan smiled to himself, looking up from the computer. Talking to this girl was way better than work, but  _ fuck _ his coffee’d gone cold now.    
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __   
__   
_     Neptune’s beach is absolutely beautiful before dawn, I highly recommend letting Back Up pee there. I’ve peed there myself on occasion, it’s some prime pee real estate. _ __   
__   
__ Shaking his head, Logan backspaced that. Scratched it clean from the record. Unlike real life, email allows him the courtesy of getting things right, really right, even if it takes a couple of tries; momentarily, he wondered if it took Shopgirl a few attempts before sending to him, too.    
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __   
__   
_     You know what they say, satisfaction brings that kitty back, maybe you should’ve kept clicking around? I’m sure there’s lots of nice, non-cliches just swarming that digital landscape.  And surfing’s a great way to start your day at dawn; you beat the 405’s traffic and everything. Half the world, including you evidently, are sleeping away the best hours of the day while the rest of us skinny dip to our heart’s content. _ __   
__   
_     From, _ __   
__   
_        CA152 _ __   
__   
_ P.S. Don’t tell me you’re a California girl who doesn’t love the beach; my heart’ll break into all it’s skinny-dipping-loving pieces.  _ __   
__   
__ Smiling to himself again, Logan sipped his cold coffee and tried to picture her; the girl on the other side of the email. Of course, the scenario is there where she’s not at all what she sounds like; the scenario where she’s an old man just fucking with him, or something. But Logan prefers other scenarios; where she’s the beautiful girl he imagines her to be. Could he still love her if she didn’t like the beach? Maybe. That’d probably mean she’d really hate his houseboat, though; that’d throw a wrench in their romance.    
  
    Signing off, checking back into work, is a task Logan’s finally then fully prepared for; opening a new location of his family’s book superstore. It’s the biggest project he’s done yet, not that he’s really nervous about it. Not  __ that nervous, anyway. Any minute, Dick would be in to whisk him away to a meeting about community outreach, how they were going to win over this beach town by giving them cheap books for their loyalty. Swigging back the last of his cold coffee, Logan closed his computer and waited for his day to start.   



	2. What Neptune Has To Offer

    Mondays are her least favorite, they’re usually slow days, slower, anyway, and sometimes just to pick herself up, Veronica liked to stop someplace special on the way home. Take Neptune, California up on what it had to offer her. Going the long way to her car, she stopped at a bakery, just a donut to go, when she saw  _ it  _  across the street. Monstrous and offensive, a brand new superstore going up, one for books- and her chocolate donut with chocolate sprinkles tasted like sweetened ashes. Even now, years after her dad’s death, the first thought in her mind was how much he would hate it. Not even necessarily the big-business competition of it, just the disparaging of what was really left of Neptune’s small-town-USA charm. Finishing the rest of her donut in large bites, Veronica couldn’t be bothered worrying about what she looked like grumbling to herself walking back to her car. Her dad would’ve hated it, she thought; and Mac was going to  _ freak _ with it so close to Mars’ Shop.    
  
    Truthfully, the store had been on it’s last legs for a long while, even before her dad died. To Veronica, keeping the bookstore had meant keeping a part of him still with her, still alive, still sharing in the little beach city he loved. After her mom left, the bookstore really became the rest of their family; her dad, the bookstore, their customers, of course the books. What did a big, chain bookstore have on that? Diddly fucking squat. She grumbled to herself all the way home, all the way through dinner, and for the rest of the night.   
  
    Turning off the light in her apartment, crawling into bed with her dog, Veronica let herself miss her dad for a little while longer, before the thought came to her. With a  _ snap _ , she flicked the light back on, and sat pretzel-legged on her bed waiting for the tell-tale  _ you’ve got mail _ to give her the green light to vent her problems to a total stranger who probably wasn’t even close to who he said he was.    
  
    It’s not her fault she’s skeptical, Veronica reasoned with the static beeping of the internet. Mother who disappeared, father who died, a few lackluster boyfriends to speak of, and a business about to be undersold by the actual satan of bookstores. Life had been crapping on Veronica Mars, she wasn’t about to trust it now; but a tentative venture into the unknown was good every once in awhile right?  _ Right _ , she concluded and saw the new mail from her strictly-digital pen pal.    
  
_ To: CA152, _ __   
__   
_     I have only ever skinny dipped once, and I think keeping it that way is probably best. Alas, I love the beach, California sun is legendary for a reason, me and Back Up go on long walks every so often. It’s the before-dawn part that I take offense to. Hope you don’t mind if I pivot, but today was sort of high on the challenge meter. Have you ever lost someone you loved? Does pre-dawn surfing help that? _ __   
__   
_     From, _ __   
__   
_      Shopgirl _ __   
__   
__ Pressing send, Veronica exhaled a deep breath. If he used skinny dipping to vault into what-was-she-wearing she was going to be disappointed. She doesn’t mean to keep doing that, to keep trying to predict in what ways he’ll let her down- he hasn’t yet- but somehow her brain just spots the hurdles others have broken their legs on and starts calling the medic over before it’s even happened with him, yet. Tucking herself back into bed, Veronica  can’t shake the thought that she feels better; that talking to him, typing to him, sort of makes her smile for whatever stupid reason.    
  
    “Goodnight, Back Up,” Veronica whispered into the dark, and slept until post-dawn like everyone should.    
  
  
  
    Newspaper across his lap, feet up on his living room coffee table, Logan heard the  _ you’ve got mail _ of his laptop and put the sports section on pause.    
  
    “She had a bad day,” He said, mulling it over.  _ Had _ he lost anyone he really loved? The skinny dipping story merited a footnote in his brain, she liked the beach, fair enough. Maybe this internet friend really could be the love of his life. Laughing out loud, Logan shook his head; pre-dawn surfing helped a lot in his life, it always had.    
  
    Truthfully, he’s only in the book business because his family had groomed him for it. With his father’s death three years ago, Logan was handed the reigns- the torch, so to speak- and things had gone well enough to stay from then on. Dick was a good business partner, a good friend; Logan tapped the edges of his laptop and thought about how he hadn’t had a bad day in a long while.    
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __   
__   
_     First of all, my deepest sympathies for your loss. If I knew where to send flowers, (and what kind you preferred), you’d be receiving a big bouquet of… roses? daisies? Venus fly traps? Any second now. My father died a couple of years ago, but our relationship had mostly revolved around our business and his drinking problem being genetic. I’m not sure that’s the kind of loss you’re talking about.  _ __   
__   
    Drumming his fingertips against his lips, for the thousandth time Logan tried to picture  _ Shopgirl. _ The details were fuzzy and constantly changing, an amalgamation of girlfriends past and beautiful strangers. What was her pre-dawn surfing? What sorted her on her bad days?   
  
_ As for if surfing helps woes, I’d have to say yes; also, I’m sure I’ve read something about it preventing heart attacks, or heart disease, or something. So what’s your version of surfing? What do you do when your challenge meters up?  _ __   
__   
_     From, _ __   
__   
_     CA152 _ __   
__   
_ P.S. You liking ‘long walks on the beach’ is the most cliche thing ever, it makes me believe you.  _ __   
__   
    Dick knocking on his front door made Logan jump, and then hit send before getting up. Maybe  _ Shopgirl  _ would have a better day today; he still hadn’t dropped the  _ been skinny dipping _ from his mind.    
  
    “Dude, we have that social tonight, black tie, lots of classy ladies, please tell me you did not forget.” Dick’s reminder smarted like he’d expected Logan to forget all about it.    
  
  
    And fine, Logan  _ had  _ forgotten- he was thinking about a funny stranger’s not-so-funny bad day and not to mention, skinny dipping. Diverting his attention to Dick, to the black tie, fancy food, cyclical ego stroking…   
  
    “You know, you haven’t been out much lately. Hand-cuffed to your computer and probable-prison-pen-pal.” Dick winced a smile. “This’ll be good for you. Meet some of the local competition, eat someone else’s caviar, speak to real live women who aren’t in prison. Sample what Neptune, California has to offer you, man.”   
  
   Shrugging Dick off, Logan eventually nodded. He  __ hadn’t been out much lately.


	3. Shrimp Cocktail and a Martini, To Go

    Mostly it’s a cocktail party for editors, but face-to-face with some of California’s top shelf book businesspeople, Veronica fought off a thought about not wearing enough deodorant. Not to mention, if her dress was any tighter she’d have to have the fire department come and cut her out of it. Sucking in a breath, she nodded to the old college buddy she’d cornered into meeting her for the party. Not a date, but not-not a date. In Hearst College, she’d known him as Weevil, but Eli Navarro worked publishing now- not to mention, the man could still fill out a suit. Since school, they’d traded favors like this- a mix of personal and professional, and especially then Veronica’s glad to at least have a friend at the party. Eli was in line for drinks, and Veronica couldn’t help but eavesdrop on the conversation next to her; a rousing discussion about internet sales turned up Veronica’s nose before she wandered away to the table with the shrimp.   
  
    “Aren’t these parties all the same?” A man to her left half-startled her, shrimp cocktail in her mouth and all.   
  
    Swallowing, Veronica eyed the stranger with a smile.   
  
    “They really are, aren’t they?” With a nod, she took another bite of shrimp.   
  
    “Logan,” Logan introduced himself, extending a hand. Apparently abandoned by Dick, mingling hadn’t seemed at all appealing until he spotted the petite blonde. “You know, I don’t remember seeing you at any of these before.”   
  
    “Veronica Mars,” They shook hands a second too long, and Veronica tried to pin down the change in Logan’s face. “I...usually like to keep to the social circles where people are a little less full of themselves, and to venues where I can wear shoes _not_ made by people who really hate feet.”   
  
    Logan chuckled and admitted a wounded shrug.   
  
    “Sorry, that was probably a bit upfront- for all I know you’re perfectly full of yourself, and consequently fit right in here and love every second of it.” About to retreat, to find Eli or literally anyone else to embarrass herself in front of, Veronica stayed where she was at Logan’s laugh.   
  
    “Me? Well, _maybe_ \- to the full-of-myself part, but as for fitting in or _loving it_ here… wanna know a secret?” He leaned in closer to her, catching a whiff of sweet vanilla perfume. “I’m allergic to shrimp, but if I have to hear about ‘the next Roald Dahl’ one more time I’m inducing anaphylactic shock just to get a break. Of course, a beautiful woman like you standing here, hopefully I get lucky and you care enough to revive me.” Offering her a smirk for her laugh, he watched her shake her head at him and then her attention caught elsewhere.   
  
   “Would excuse me for a moment?” Veronica spotted Eli waving her over to him. “Stay away from those shrimp cocktail rings, you.”   
  
    “ _S_ _o_ , what’d he say?” Eli pulled Veronica close by her elbow, keeping his voice low, and for her ears only.   
  
    “That guy?” Veronica blinked back to Logan. “That he’s allergic to shrimp. Why?”   
  
    “That’s Logan Echolls, the guy who’s-”   
  
    “ _Echoll’s Books?”_ Snapping her attention back to Logan, now Logan _Echolls,_ guy who was going to put her store, her father’s store, out of business. “Excuse me,” Veronica took the drink from Eli’s hand.   
  
    “Yep.” With a pop of his ‘p,’ Eli figured he could predict what was about to happen next.   
  
    Fighting her shoes the entire way across the room, Veronica stopped in front of Logan’s still-amused smirk.   
  
    “Actually, you know what, try the shrimp- really, try a ton of shrimp.” Veronica grit her teeth to keep her voice low, and fixed her glare on his face. “Logan _Echolls? Echolls’ Books?_ Do you even know who I _am?_ I’m the small business-”   
  
    “That will go under when my store opens, because you can’t compete with my company.” Logan finished for her, warily eyeing the drink in her hand. “Of course I know who you are, I make it a point to know my competition.”   
  
    “So the thing with the… shrimp, that was _getting to know_ the competition?” Veronica balked. The man in front of her was bulldozing her professional life- and he had a smug little smile plastered to his face.   
  
    “The thing with the shrimp was me flirting with you, but if you can’t tell the difference, I can’t help you there.” Logan smiled down at her, recognizing the murder in her face for what it was. If looks could kill, he’d be dead, no shrimp required.   
  
   Catching her raised eyebrows just a second too late though, Logan managed only a half step back before- _splash_ . Yep, dry martini and half an olive clung to his shirt. Across the room, Eli exhaled a breath, “Time to go,” He said to no one, and caught up with Veronica.   
  
    “Nice meeting you,” Logan called after Veronica, as he watched her get whisked away by what he assumed was her date. Running his hand down his shirt, yeah, it was going to need dry cleaning.   
  
    The finger she waved back at him before leaving definitely wasn’t a thumbs up, and Logan couldn’t help but chuckle at it; at the whole thing. She had been right about one thing- she certainly was up front.


	4. The Olive (Branch)

     _To: CA152,_  
  
_Apparently, my version of surfing  is publicly embarrassing myself and then drinking lots of post-embarrassment wine. I’ve heard wine’s good for your heart too, right? I guess neither one of us will kick it from heart disease? Another thing we’ve got in common._  
  
Veronica couldn’t help but smile. Days after the fiasco with Logan Echolls at the cocktail party, she could smile about it. Of course, there had been that distinct lingering feeling of public embarrassment; but she was on the brink of losing something important to her, and she’d gotten to look into the face of the person taking it away, and throw a drink on him- olive and everything. Veronica could only think of a few times in her life she’d seized the moment like that; even if in the moment she’d probably looked unhinged to everyone else at that party. In her head, she gave Logan some credit; she'd rarely seen a man wear a drink that well.  
  
     _Do you ever feel like sometimes you just get stuck being the worst version of yourself? I mean, like the world antagonizes you until the only way you can survive is to bare your teeth and bite back._  
  
Baring her teeth at her own reflection in the screen, Veronica shook her head. She would be late for one of her last days of work if she didn’t leave her apartment soon.  
  
     _Without getting decidedly ‘personal,’ it was my father I lost, too, about seven years ago. I just can’t stop wondering what he’d think of me now, of my life, of the worst version of me, you know? Knowing him he’d probably make a funny face and remind me he loved me, but I miss not being able to ask him for advice._  
  
_From,_  
  
_Shopgirl_  
  
_P.S. Can’t say I’ve ever received a bouquet of Venus fly traps? Do you haveta buy flies specifically for them to eat or can they survive on whatever flies are flying around?_  
  
_P.P.S. I can’t tell if I’m envious you don’t miss your father. Should I be envious?_  
  
    Signing off, shutting her computer, Veronica left for work, still picturing Logan Echolls with an olive clinging to his shirt. She could only hope all of her less-than-fine moments made for such satisfying memories.

* * *

  
  
    “I’m sorry, you want me to _what?_ The woman ruined a three thousand dollar suit with a nine dollar martini, and _probably_ would’ve let me die of a shellfish allergy had the opportunity presented itself. What about anyone else? What even makes you think she’ll work with us?” Logan wasn’t _whining,_ he was articulating his thoughts clearly, communicating his professional opinion decisively and effectively.  
  
    “We need her, to raise our local profile. Besides, in two weeks when her store’s under, she’s gonna be banging our door down looking for a job. She’s the best in the business at picking new best sellers, and she’s right here in town to turn over some of the locals for us. You two will just have to learn how to play nice.” Dick bit back his laugh at Logan’s scowl. “At least think about it. Didn’t you hate that suit, anyway?”  
  
    Rolling his eyes, Logan shook his head before he spoke.  
  
    “Very much not the point.”  
  
    “Yeah, yeah. You know why she hates you, you know she's gonna need the work, and you're the best smooth talker I've ever seen when your mind's to it. You ever fix your googly eyes on me, we're both in trouble. Go extend the _olive_ branch; just make sure she doesn’t have any drinks on-hand.” Smirking, Dick left and pulled the office door closed behind him, leaving Logan to pause his sulking to check his email. _Shopgirl_ had gone quiet the last few days, but there was new mail from her then. Scrolling through it, Logan smiled again.  
  
     _To: Shopgirl,  
_  
_I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about your old friend CA152. We’re old friends now, right? Or am I wildly over-familiarizing our relationship? As for the worst versions of ourselves, I’m inclined to completely agree with you. Pushing back on the universe, (or life, or other people, or yourself) is all kinds of fun until it isn’t. I’ve been told I give absolutely awful advice if you’re interested in that? Not to mention my funny-face arsenal is incredible. (Oh, the absolutely unflattering things I can do with my tongue; I'm a master.) For what it’s worth, I rather like at least talking to (typing to?) any version of you. You know, as an old friend. Plus, I've never received a chain email from you, so rest assured your worst version isn't really the worst humanity's got to offer._  
  
_From,_  
  
_CA152_  
  
_P.S. I’m sure Venus fly traps have to hone their predator-plant instincts, not to mention watch their figures, store-bought flies would probably interfere with that, right?_  
  
_P.P.S. Without getting ‘decidedly personal;’ I'm envious that you do miss your father._  
  
    Thinking about it, Logan hadn’t been the worst version of himself since his father was alive; one day, maybe he’d take Dick’s awful advice and make some unlucky psychiatrist very rich. Until then, he had to go across Neptune and meet a prickly, attractive woman about her picks for this season's best-sellers. _Shopgirl_ could be there for him when he got back.


	5. Echolls on Mars

    Papers splayed across her lap, Veronica sat at Mac’s desk, where she could no longer pretend the numbers were lying to her. Community support was nice, press was nice, kind words from friends were nice, but none of those nice things were going to pay the storefront rent or any of her employees’ salaries.  
  
    Knock on the door disrupting her thoughts, Veronica muttered a reluctant welcome.  
  
    “Just know, you’re interrupting a perfectly good self-pity spiral, Walla- _Logan Echolls, Echolls’ Books._ Don't tell me, you’re billing me for dry cleaning.” Veronica had a long list in her head of people she could’ve anticipated walking into her store’s office; Logan Echolls didn’t even make the top 100. The edge in her voice certainly didn't shock him, but hey she hadn't thrown anything at him, yet.  
  
    “Sorry for interrupting….your pity spiral, was it?” Barely keeping his grin beyond polite, Logan entered the cramped office cautiously. “Actually, I’m here on official _book business,_ Ms.Mars _.”_ __  
__  
“Veronica, please. Ms. Mars is my father, and all the other guys who I’ve thrown drinks on took it as a warrant for a first name basis." The hint of a casual smile only flickered for a second on her face, but he could swear he saw it. And then he saw it go, quickly as it appeared. "But in case you haven’t heard, I’m rapidly becoming irrelevant in the _book business.”_ Her tone was frost-bitten, Logan could swear the room felt cooler all of a sudden, now that she'd dropped her casual jokes and any semblance of regret about the other night's... _incident_.  
  
    “Right, it’s about that actually. How would you like a… consultant position at our new store?” Taking the seat across the desk she hadn’t offered him, Logan offered her a smile, and took a deep breath. What had Dick said to fall back on? Googly eyes? Veronica Mars didn't strike Logan as a woman who could be seduced to where she tracked his dark side to; she'd barely even looked up from her work, and when she did it was clear he still wasn't welcome.  
  
    “You’re actually shameless aren’t you?” Veronica all but out-right laughed.  _Some people_ , she thought.  
  
    “Well, I do play it on TV,” Logan tried to deescalate. He’d tried to tell Dick, that there was no working with this woman; he'd really, really tried to tell him that. “Apparently, there’s no one else in Neptune who can,” picking a book off the desk, Logan brought it to his face and made a show of smelling it, “sniff out an up-and-coming best-seller like you can. You’d be a stock consultant, in whatever capacity you’d prefer.”  
  
    “I’d _prefer_ to stock my own store.” Veronica gave a sour smile. Realistically, losing the store hurt her as financially as emotionally, and somewhere deep-down and rational, the _Echolls' Books_ job wasn't even entirely unappealing. Not right for her at all, but not entirely unappealing. A thought occurred to her that Logan Echolls' visit didn't have to be all pain, gloom, and awkwardness; good could come from it. _Look at you, Veronica, seeing the brightside of the dark spot sitting across from you,_ she thought to herself. “ _But_ you should talk to Wallace on the floor out there. He’s been here nine years, knows everything I do, and I don’t know if he’ll work for you, but I have it on good authority he’ll be looking for work soon. Plus he’s fantastic at working with _difficult people.”_ __  
__  
“Nine years with you, huh?” Logan nodded, looking down inexplicably. “I’ll talk to him on my way out, then. You know, I’m not doing this to be your personal Lex Luthor or anything. You could still work for my team; turn the time you drenched me in cheap alcohol into a fun story for the water-cooler.” Leaning back in the chair, he met her eyes and watched her face for changes; surveying the scattered papers, the disappointed curve in her lips, he could feel bad for her. For anyone sitting on the other side of that table. Shrugging, he felt compelled to explain almost; to remind her, “This isn't… personal, you know.”  
  
    “It is to me.” Veronica shrugged and sighed, and Logan wasn’t sure where to go from there.  
  
     “Right. Well, have a good day, Veronica Mars.” No singular finger dismissed him this time, just a casual wave, but somehow Logan guessed there could’ve been some small bit of profanity in it just for him. He could kind of admire that; maybe working with her wouldn't have been terrible. Given a common enemy, Veronica Mars might have been fun; shaking that thought away, Logan remembered she thought he was personally responsible for ruining her life and had made that abundantly clear. If _p_ _laying nice_ was never going to be an option between them, it was probably better she hadn't taken his offer.

* * *

  
      
    Later on, dropping into her couch, with it’s lovable, pliable, pale green cushions; Veronica blinked in the silence of her apartment. Soon, would she be out of work and here full time? Lovable, pliable, pale green cushions destined to be her constant companions into old-maid-hood and eventually penniless death? _Sigh._ _No, pity-spiral cancelled indefinitely._ Booting up her computer, she figured she could at least distract herself with the familiar _you’ve got mail_ and naturally, _CA152_ didn’t disappoint her.  
  
    “Awful advice, huh?” Veronica shook her head at Back Up.  
  
     _To: CA 152,_ __  
__  
_Of course we’re old friends, I tell you things I normally only tell Back Up; and you’re the only person alive who knows I’ve skinny-dipped before. That’s a bonding agent, my friend. Long-term only. Actually, I think Back Up might be developing a jealous streak; you may have a territorial pit bull on your hands, old friend. As for some awful advice, that could be just the kind I need. My life’s about to be devoid of anything I’ve built to mean anything; what awful advice do you have to solve that?_ __  
__  
_From,_ __  
__  
_Shopgirl_ __  
__  
_P.S. Do you think we should meet? (since we’re old friends)_  
  
    Typing it out, Veronica inhaled a sharp breath just looking at the words. Wallace would say this man could be a murderer; a long-game murderer, conning her into walking straight into his murdery plans. Even if he was a regular, non-murdering type person, there were about a thousand things that meeting in person could ruin. She didn’t backspace though, opting instead to hit ‘send’ and promptly close her laptop.


	6. You Could Pick The Time, and The Place

  
  
    Leaned back against his headboard, Logan sucked a tooth. Twice, his email log-in had timed out, prompting him to sign back in, read the message again, and re-contemplate all over again. Meeting her, meeting  _ Shopgirl _ , had all the potential to be wonderful; incredible, even. Best case scenario, she was everything she seemed to be, everything he wanted. Worst case scenario, she was married, or a murderer, or just… merely disappointed in the real, live and in-color  _ CA152.  _ Logging in again at the computer’s angry, frustrated, beeping insistence. How many times had he tried to picture her? Of course he had to meet her; married, murderous, disappointed and all.   
  
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __  
__  
_      To get the awful advice out of the way, sometimes when things don’t mean anything, that’s kind of the fun, isn’t it?  You’re free to move on, get attached to new things that develop new meaning.  _ __  
__  
    He paused, thinking on it for a moment.    
  
_ My awful advice is: mourn your loss, grieve what you had, and then find meaning elsewhere. Sorry? In fairness, I said awful advice and you indulged. Also, I’m actually not sure I could take Back Up in a contest; I’ll have to find some way to get on his good side. As to meeting, what about Dominick’s? It’s close to Neptune Beach- lowkey, but public, coffee that’s certainly not terrible. Does Saturday night work for you? _ __  
__  
_     From, _ __  
_        CA152 _ __  


* * *

__  
__  
__  
  “So what, you’re just gonna meet a stranger, from the internet, and  _ hope _ he’s who you think he is?” Wallace looked skeptical, boxing up some of the store’s dwindling shelves.   
  
   “ _ Relax _ , I’m bringing pepper spray and we’re meeting at a very public place, Dominick’s? Like two blocks from the pier? I know it’s silly, but I’m sort of nervous.” Dragging her feet through the store’s closing and clean-up, even thinking about meeting  _ CA152 _ had Veronica’s energy up. Nervous energy, but energy all the same. She’d been to Dominick’s before… and  _ CA152 _ had mentioned the coffee. Veronica wondered if she’d ever seen him there, or on the beach, or anywhere before.    
  
    “You’re  _ nervous?” _ Wallace scoffed. “How bad do you have it for this guy, V?” Shaking his head, Wallace hoped it’d be good for her- that  _ CA152  _ would be something good for her.   
  
_Nervous_ was a gross oversimplification, Veronica mused to herself. The one guy she'd had butterfly-type feelings for in a long time, and he was a stranger, with only the vaguest details about her life. Sure, he was good on digital paper, but could  _CA152_ really stand the litmus test of a real-life meeting? Could Veronica herself open up to a guy she barely knew in the same way she talked to him over the internet? Nervous? Nervous barely covered what Veronica felt about meeting  _CA152;_ and she couldn't help but wonder how he felt about meeting her.  
  


* * *

  
  
    “Dude, when you said _date_ , I thought you meant-”  
  
    “Coffee. I’m sure I never said date, I said coffee, maybe dessert, maybe post-dessert proposal where I literally - not figuratively, zero metaphor about it - _literally_ offer this girl my actual still-beating heart. Listen, if she’s _anything_ like she seems that isn’t an overrreaction; if she’s _half_ as pretty as she is funny, or insightful, or honest-” Logan shook his head at Dick.   
  
    “Sounds like somebody’s forgetting who they are.” Dick poked at Logan’s chest, still rolling his eyes at Logan’s Romeo impression. “Dude, you’re Logan Echolls- like, a gazillionaire, with a houseboat, and like, cleaning ladies for it. Not to mention you’re built like a-”  
  
    “I know.” Logan laughed, short and smarmy, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. “I don’t even haveta be this good looking- all extra.” Looking down at his shoes, Logan shook his head, nervous smile back into place. “I don’t know, man, what if we were supposed to be one of those _things_ that stays online, you know? Like those old people who trade letters for decades and marry other people and it’s nice because it’s love but it’s not with all the concrete mess and resentment of real relationships?”  
  
    Back pedalling in his brain, Logan took a deep breath at Dick’s about-to-laugh face.   
  
    “It’s possible you’re over-thinking this; you said it, it’s just coffee.” Dick pointed out.   
  
    “Right. Just coffee.” Dominick’s red awning indicated they were here, and this was going to happen. _Shopgirl_ was probably already there, waiting for a _CA152_ to show up and be hopefully incredible. “Okay, okay. Just go to the door and tell me if you see a-”  
  
    “White sweater, and a rose with her,” Dick parroted. “Yep, got her at three o clock.” He spotted the girl in the white sweater with a rose across her table, more specifically, he spotted Veronica Mars in a white sweater with a rose across her table; the Veronica Mars, of Mars’ Shop, girl with the flying martinis.   
  
    “ _So…_ ” Logan prompted, heart pumping in anticipation.   
  
    “Do you…” Dick contemplated, and restarted. “You remember Veronica Mars, right? Kind of hot.”   
  
    “Sure, the entire twenty seconds we’d known each other without her loathing me, yes I found her attractive; who cares?” Logan _had_ flirted first- he was pretty sure that’s what the martini had been for. Well, that and the business competition. But _who cared_ about Veronica Mars _right now?_  
  
    “Well… she looks a _lot_ like Veronica, dude.” Dick backed away from the cafe’s door. “Mostly because that’s definitely Veronica Mars.”  
  
    Logan exhaled a long, whistling breath. _Shopgirl_. Mars’ _Shop._ Wanting to ask her dad for advice, the public embarrassment stunt, the _losing everything in her life that meant anything_. Of course, _Shopgirl_ was Veronica Mars. Struggling to swallow the thought, Logan sifted a hand through his hair. Cosmic entities really found him funny, didn’t they? If there was a god, Logan figured he’d probably really pissed that dude off somehow.   
  
    “What are you gonna do, man?” Dick waited.   
  
    “Well, if having coffee with Veronica Mars is the only way to keep _Shopgirl_ from sitting here alone all night…” Logan chewed his lip. “I’m going to have coffee with a beautiful woman.” Silver lining out in front, Logan considered that things could’ve been worse; he wasn’t sure how, but he was positive they could be.  
  
    Clapping a hand on Logan’s back, Dick shook his head at his friend.   
  
    “She _hates_ you, dude.” Pep talk from the walk over long forgotten, Dick reminded Logan, that yes, this beautiful couldn’t stand him.   
  
    “Yeah. Yeah she does,” Logan caught the door to Dominick’s and couldn’t help a smile. What had Dick reminded him to use with _Shopgirl_? His googly eyes?


	7. Just Coffee

  Inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, Veronica tried to ignore the ticking in her head that counted the seconds she’d been seated at Dominick’s. Her table was a strategic choice; far from, but angled towards, the door- a perfect position to watch for any man that had the slightest potential to be  _ CA152. _ Talking to a stranger and daring to meet the man and be nervous about it, there was some silliness in that. Waiting at a table alone, with a rose as identification  _ felt _ completely silly to Veronica. Wait a minute, was that… Veronica’s watchful eyes caught a glimpse of Logan Echolls, striding into Dominick’s with a big grin on his face.    
  
_ “Crap,” _ Veronica sighed, and angled her face towards the cafe’s window, momentarily forgetting she was supposed to be on the lookout for  _ CA152- _  there was a more pressing mission to pursue in avoiding Logan Echolls.    
  
    “Veronica Mars?”  _ Mission failed _ , Veronica thought. The glare that met Logan didn’t strike him as something he should take as encouraging, but he smiled undeterred. For the second time since they’d met, Logan dropped into a seat across from Veronica she didn’t offer- letting her barely-dignified gape speak for itself for a moment. “Fancy running into you here. Mind if I join you? I hear they have some great coffee.”   
  
    Folding his hands across the table from hers, Logan tore his attention away from the rose she tried to shield from him. He was still having difficulty wrapping his head around  _ Shopgirl _ , an intelligent, funny stranger actually pairing with the woman scowling across the cafe table across from him.    
  
    “I heard that, too, actually. And I do mind, I’m waiting for someone.” Hint of defensiveness in her voice, Veronica couldn’t help but keep flicking her eyes to the door. Logan caught her, and turned in his seat to look.    
  
    “I can keep you company until your friend gets here. That them?” Raised eyebrow regarding the old couple that entered the cafe on cue, Logan willed himself to relax; to be himself. Anxiety had been a rare emotion since his father’s death; reinstating it for the one woman who could make him laugh as well as bare his soul didn’t seem like the best course of action.    
  
    “No,” Veronica offered a cold smile. “That’s not him. I hope not, anyway.” Watching the old couple order boxes of cookies to go, Veronica winced.    
  
    “You hope not? Ms. Mars are you meeting a stranger here? That’s awfully unsafe and irresponsible of you.” Shaking his head and  _ tsk-tsk-tsking _ his tongue at her, Logan waved the waiter over for two coffees, to stay.    
  
   “Not a  _ stranger _ stranger, and I can take care of myself, thank you.” Tapping her fingers on the table, she couldn’t help but want Logan Echolls to disappear. From here specifically, from life in general; Earth as a whole. “What are you doing here, anyway? Thinking about opening a coffee shop and you wanna know what smalltown holes-in-the-walls you’ll be ousting?”   
  
    “Fine, I deserve that one. No, as a matter of fact, I’m just looking to small-time invest in the natural holes-in-the-walls of Neptune. Starting with this cup of coffee.” Saluting the mug to her, Logan blinked with the realization that he’d been given the rare opportunity to see both sides of a person. Publicly, or at least around him, too often Veronica Mars’ mouth was pressed into a firm, straight line, unwilling to compromise her opinion of him. Privately, with  _ CA152 _ , she’d been soft, funny, a source of laughter and an outlet for vulnerability. Sipping his coffee, he watched her eyes move towards the door and then refocus on him. “You really hate me, don’t you?”   
  
    For Veronica, that question rang extremely uncomplicated; rather simple, actually, she barely needed a second to contemplate.    
  
    “If someone ground your business to dust, and I mean a business you actually cared about, wouldn’t you hate the person responsible?” Thumb running around the ring of her own mug, Veronica purposefully ignored how wounded Logan’s face got.    
  
    “I would. For awhile, at least.” Nodding a concession to her point, Logan wasn’t sure of what was safe to talk about. Getting her riled and defensive might be fun, but it wouldn’t be the nice evening  _ Shopgirl _ had undoubtedly been looking forward to. “I can see you really loved your business; I’m sorry about…” Logan heard the door again, and watching Veronica’s face flicker with hope, and then consequential disappointment stung more than it had a right to. “I’m sorry that your business suffered because of mine. So it was your dad’s store before-”   
  
    “Before a drunk driver jumped a curb and hit him. Yes,  _ Mars’ Shop _ for Keith Mars, a great man and a great booksalesman. Terrible businessperson but he knew his books. He had a  _ way _ , you know, almost like a detective- he knew what books people needed, even if they didn’t.” Veronica shook her head; there was no reason she should be having coffee with Logan Echolls, of all people, thinking about her dad again. “Besides, why should you be sorry? You got everything you wanted. You store will do great, I’m working on getting Wallace to work for you, and your biggest business problem from here on out will be how many people you have to hire to count your money.”   
  
_ There we go, _ Logan couldn’t help but think; even her spitting at him made him want to laugh. Which made him want to cry; millions, billions of girls in the world, and this one had rapidly become all things to him, even if she had no idea.    
  
    “I’m sorry about your father, and I am sorry about your business, regardless of what you think of me and mine. Ending your career was never a goal, scout’s honor.” Logan squashed mentioning that he’d never been a boyscout. “So who’s this stranger you’re meeting?”    
  
    Taking a sip of her coffee, Veronica pulled her sight away from the door yet again, as a young woman entered the cafe. Decidedly not  _ CA152. _   
  
    “He’s… an old friend,” Veronica smiled genuinely, thinking about the nights she’d stayed up talking or the mornings she woke up anxious for his reply. “Sort of,” She added with a slight nod.    
  
    “But you like him?” Without prodding, Logan wondered how many questions he could get her to answer about  _ CA152. _ She was still smiling at him, about him without knowing it, and that felt oddly encouraging despite the situation.   
  
    “It’s like… I  _ could _ like him, you know? But I could probably like anyone who’s thoughtful and sweet with a great sense of humor. Thoughtful and sweet, are those words I need to define for you?” Her smile flashed venom as Veronica reminded herself who she was talking to, who she was sitting across from.    
  
    “No, no, I got those words. But if he’s such a great, thoughtful, old friend… where is he?” With a flourish of his hand, Logan gestured to their table. “To be fair, at least you don’t have that other thing to worry about.” Sipping his coffee, he winked.    
  
_ Fine _ , Veronica sighed,  _ I’ll bite. _   
  
    “What other thing?”    
  
    “You know, that thing with blind dates people are always afraid of; that what-if-your-date-walked-in-saw-you-and-left thing. If he came, he’d have to want to meet you, I’m positive of that. Even if it was a really bad idea, he’d have to come sit with you, even if it’s to get chewed out a little.” Watching her roll her eyes, Logan laughed an easy laugh.    
  
    “I wouldn’t  _ chew him out _ , thank you. I told you, he’s sweet and thoughtful. If he couldn’t make it, there’s a really good reason for it, believe me. And I feel like I asked this already, but what  _ are _ you doing here?” Rolling her eyes again, Veronica reminded herself to check the door this time. She believed that, if  _ CA152  _ couldn’t make it, he had a reason. What  _ didn’t _ have a reason, was why Logan Echolls was sitting with her, sipping coffee like  _ they  _ were old friends.    
  
    “Well, excuse me for mentioning it, but I’ve only seen the prickly, pointy thorns of your personality since you learned my last name. And I’m here for the coffee, you did already ask that.” His cup was empty though, and here-for-the-coffee wasn’t even in the neighborhood of being true anymore.    
  
    “No, I mean  _ here here. _ At  _ my  _ table here. We’re not… we don’t… have coffee together. You torched my professional life and I threw a martini on you; why are you  _ here _ , Logan?” All at once, Veronica was reminded why this couldn’t be nice, why this couldn’t be okay. Casually conversing and laughing with Logan Echolls was never going to be something she could just do, and why he was still sitting with her, Veronica couldn’t figure.    
  
    “Saw you sitting alone, I guess.” If Logan had been keeping better track, he might’ve marked down that that wasn’t a lie or a half-truth. “Can’t two business rivals share a nice, hot cup o’ joe, Veronica?” Her face had changed, he could see it. Realization had plucked her from their bordering-on-easy conversation, and there wasn’t going to be a way to unburn that bridge in one night. More than anything, Logan felt hope. Hope that she could like him, hope that  _ Shopgirl _ and Veronica Mars could like him, despite the frown setting into her face.   
  
    “Could you please leave? Please, Logan? I’m.. I’m waiting for someone, remember?” Eyes in her lap, Veronica heard Logan leave wordlessly, and exhaled a heavy breath of relief. Another 42 minutes she sat, drank three cups of coffee, and eventually left; leaving the rose on the table on her way out.


	8. The Day After

    “So, how was it? Are you mentally planning a honeymoon as you-” Wallace gauged the flat look on Veronica's face- and gathered it was more likely she was mentally planning a funeral. “Don’t tell me…”  
  
    “He didn’t show. It gets better though, because instead of meeting someone I could love, I got to have coffee with someone I totally _loathe_ .” Spiteful, Veronica let her smile pick up. “Logan Echolls, from Echolls’ Books.”   
  
    Biting her lip, Veronica reminded herself she was supposed to be encouraging Wallace to go to the dark side. Long-term, Veronica was sure Wallace would love the non-jobless-non-homeless perks that would come with switching to _Echolls’ Books._ Short-term, the speed bumps like loyalty and moral convictions that Veronica loved about Wallace, were threatened with compromise. “Get this- he _apologized_ . The man’s lips moved and _‘I’m sorry’_  came out of them.” They came out of a smug, smiling pair of lips, but Veronica acknowledged the minute effort made.   
  
    “You spend a lot of time looking at his lips?” Wallace teased, shaking his head.   
  
    It was their last day cleaning the shop, empty shelves making the cramped store feel bigger than ever.   
  
    “You know what I  _mean_ , I think he was actually trying to be nice, in a weird way. Fighting all his baseline instincts, I guess.” Scoffing, Veronica let herself run through her time at Dominick’s again. Supposedly, Logan sat with her because she was alone, and she was alone because _CA152_ stood her up. The worst guy she knew tried to be nice, and the nice guy made her feel like an idiot. “I _know_ he had a reason for ditching me, you know. Chatroom guy.” Veronica switched focus. “But not even a call?”   
  
    Veronica winced, casting her glance around the room, purposefully ignoring the way they’d been pacing the store, dusting clean shelves, and hanging around with little reason to still be there. She just wasn’t _ready_ yet, not yet, to close the door to _Mars’ Shop_ for good.   
  
    “Maybe he just got nervous? You can be intimidating, take it from a guy who’s seen you in action. Still should’ve called though, I guess. Maybe he just got stuck in a meeting or something and left you a message you didn’t get it. Feel free to rip him to shreds though, don’t let me stand in your way.” Wallace raised his hands in surrender, as Veronica laughed, shaking her head.   
  
    “Why does everyone think I’m gonna eat this guy alive? I’m perfectly nice a perfect proportion of the time. Logan said something like that too, like would I chew my coffee-date out.” Veronica rolled her eyes just thinking about it. Now maybe she had a reason to be upset with _CA152,_ that was for sure.   
  
    “Seriously, though, I’m sorry you got stuck with that Echolls guy. About him…” Wallace straightened the door on a cabinet behind the checkout counter. For years, he and Veronica held their favorite books back there- shielded them from customers looking to buy the place out of last copies of new books or old classics that were going through a pop surge. “I don’t know if I can work with him, his store. It wouldn’t be.. Here, you know?” Meeting Veronica’s eyes, finally, Wallace shook his head. “This isn’t me getting sappy, or soft, don’t worry; a boss that brings ice cream for breakfast is gonna be really hard to beat, though, that’s all.” Crossing the room to hug her, fine, maybe Wallace was getting a little sappy.   
  
    “So… you’re leaving books to go into… ice cream? Maybe I should try that.” Pretending to tap her chin in contemplation, Veronica kept hugging Wallace. Not only had she let her dad’s store go, she was letting her best friend’s store go. _Mars’ Shop_ had been family for them both for a long time.   
  
    “I think I’m gonna head out, V. You coming?” Wallace took a last look around; gave a final sigh.   
  
    “Nah, I’ll finish up here a minute. Go home, Wallace. Thanks, you know, for-” Cut off by Wallace’s nod, _god_ , Veronica teased herself that she was getting soft, too.   
  
    Alone in the empty store, she ran her fingertips along an empty shelf and said goodbye. To the place, to the store, that day-in, day-out life. In a moment, she made peace with the garbage-fire-rock-bottom-hollowed-out-feeling state of her life.   
  
    “No job, no boyfriend, no clue?” Veronica fought to laugh at herself, talking to the empty space; flicking the shop’s light off, she nodded to herself. “What’s the saying? The opposite of responsibility is freedom?” No matter the sunny PR spin Veronica tried to put on it, she was sad to leave the shell of her dad’s store, and sad she wouldn’t be coming back.   
  


* * *

  
  
  
    Pacing. Logan had spent the better part of the day pacing around his apartment, after sleeping a grand total of forty minutes the night before; weighing options on a decision that didn’t seem fair to him, and that weren’t at all fair to Veronica _or_ Shopgirl. He hadn’t told her the truth so she wouldn’t hate him - but what if she would hate him for _not_ telling? Running a hand down his face, Logan pushed his father’s voice from his head, focusing on thinking only of Veronica, only of _Shopgirl_ .   
  
    New mail, right on cue, filled Logan with new hope, and new anxiety. With a deep breath, he clicked to read.   
  
    _To: CA152,_   
  
_My instinct, my natural tendency, is to assume that last night while I waited in a cafe for you, you were parked with binoculars somewhere, laughing your head off at how much of a fool another person could be. Over the past few months, you’ve been a funny, odd sort of confidant- a place to hide my secrets, and someone to air some of my inner monologues to; part of me feels stupid, feels ridiculous, feels greedy, for pushing it- for testing my luck and hoping for more than that. All day, I’ve been telling myself that you not showing means you had a reason that doesn’t include laughing your head off._   
  
Logan paused from reading, taking a minute to picture her writing it.   
  
     _While I waited for you, someone else I know showed up.  A man I’m almost embarrassed to admit I’ve spent a not-small amount of time thinking about; all those mopey emails you’ve been getting lately, me asking you for advice? Today, I closed my store, my father’s store. The man I had coffee with last night was a big part of that. He actually apologized, which is the part I’m a little hung up on. Don’t you just wish the awful parts of the world were just totally awful? There were so many mean things I wanted to say to him (and some I actually did), so many nasty things I wanted to call him, and he had to show up there last night when I was waiting for you, and he had to apologize and be sort of a real person, not just a faceless enemy or symbol of the failures in my life._   
  
Hands over his mouth, Logan stopped reading again. Going to Dominick’s, Veronica had expected a friend, and had gotten an enemy. All things considered, he figured that could’ve gone a lot worse. But now, when she thought she was talking to a friend, she was speaking to him. That was a more-than-unsettling thought, and Logan was almost scared of what she’d say to him next.   
  
     _You can tell me I’m being harsh, apparently I’m developing a reputation for that. Today was unspeakably hard, unbearably so, and mostly I just really don’t know what comes next. Your awful advice was to move on; my next question is to where?_   
  
_From,_   
_Shopgirl_   
  
_P.S. Dominick’s coffee was actually something to regret missing, even if the company was underwhelming._   
  
    Running his hands through his hair, for the first time ever Logan was completely unsure what to say to her.


	9. Apologies and Alpacas

_ To: Shopgirl, _ __  
__  
_      We can never meet _ __  
__  
    “No,” Logan shook his head, backspacing his first attempt. “We can never meet, as I’m moving to Canada to start a new life as a celibate alpaca farmer, because I know you’ll never be able to set aside your deep-set, well-deserved, hot, burning rage for me, and celibate alpaca farmer somewhere dreadfully cold seems like the only viable option left for me.” Mocking himself, he started again.    
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __  
__  
_      My identity must remain anonymous _ __  
__  
    Sighing, Logan backspaced again.    
  
    “My identity must remain anonymous, because I’m actually a covert operative, and if I’m not shrouded in mystery at all times, I may very well die. Please love me anyway, xoxo  _ CA152 _ . Yeah, that sounds right.” He huffed out a breath.   
  
    Logan pictured Veronica Mars upset with him on every front. And then he pictured her smiling, and then he pictured her leaning across his breakfast table, maybe in an old shirt of his, furious or happy or anywhere in between, probably laughing madly at the concept of a houseboat with cleaning ladies. And then he tried again.    
  
_ To: Shopgirl, _ __  
__  
_     Honestly, all I can do is apologize for my actions. I hope someday you can forgive me, and maybe even understand. Over the past few months, we’ve talked about things I expend great effort trying not to even think about, and you’ve made me smile about them everytime. I can’t tell you the reason I couldn’t make our date, but you’re right, I wouldn’t have made you sit alone without one, and I promise you (from one old friend to another) that there was definitely no laughing my head off involved. I’m sorry you wound up having coffee with someone who’s made your life very difficult. I’m sure he’s more than deserved your wrath, and I’m sure that like mine, his apology was genuinely meant.  _ __  
__  
__ Tapping his fingers against the edge of his computer, Logan breathed easier staring at least  _ some _ truth in the face. Momentarily, he couldn’t help but think to backspace it all, never contact her again, leave Veronica Mars and Shopgirl alone- let her suffer a little pain now, and possibly save her a lot of pain later. But would that protect her? Or only himself? Certainly, there was probably some honor in becoming a celibate alpaca farmer- but the image of blue eyes smiling up at him, first thing in the morning, burned through all other thoughts.    
  
_ As to your ‘what next’ I’m not sure I can really help you there. Isn’t there anything you’ve always wanted to do? Any wild daydreams you’ve pushed back on over the years just waiting for the scrap of a chance? Again, awful advice, the only kind I give, but by all means… nobody should be telling you what ‘next’ is… next can be anything, right? I hear Canada’s looking for a fresh class of alpaca farmers; maybe Back Up wants some extra-hairy siblings? _ __  
__  
_     From, _ __  
_      CA152 _ __  
__  
  Breathlessly, he finally clicked  __ send;  adrenaline still pounding, thoughts still in overdrive, wondering what he could’ve said better, or if he should’ve just left her alone after all. More than anything, he couldn’t wait for her response.    
  


* * *

  
  
_What am I even doing here?_ Veronica tried not to marvel- there was to be exactly no marvelling. The lay-out was too expansive a sight, too many dozens of shelves, lined top to bottom with books. Veronica wondered if Logan had oversold his need for a stock consultant; someone had certainly stocked the place well.   
  
    Walking around, feet dragging across too-plush and too-clean carpet floors, she watched people interacting, watched kids picking their own books for the first time, watched _Echolls’ Books_ employees stumble through learning the navigation and layout of the new, huge store. An older woman stopped to smile at Veronica, and pull her by the arm, in close.   
  
    “Excuse me, dear, but that young man’s been following you through the store, watching you walk around the last few shelves.” The woman spoke through her teeth, her eyes over Veronica’s shoulder, prompting her to turn around and spot… Logan Echolls. Nodding her thanks to the woman, Veronica chided herself; it was his store. If they could run into eachother at cocktail socials and random Neptune coffee shops, the probably he’d find her in his own store was something she should’ve prepared for. She’d just found herself in the area, topped off with wild curiosity and -  
  
    “Well?” Logan spotted her coming in, and watched her pace through shelves, surveying the place, and he’d been torn about approaching until somebody’s grandma had evidently interfered.   
  
   “Well what?” Veronica stepped closer to him, still letting her eyes roam around the store.   
  
    “What do you think? Honest opinion; from one bookseller to another, really, I’m braced and everything. What do you think?” Leaning against a non-fiction stack, watching her think immediately and inexplicably put Logan more at ease.  
  
    “Honest opinion?” Veronica repeated, and smiled a little. “ _Honestly_ , I’ll deny this if you ever mention it, but I’m a _little_ impressed,” she conceded, with a shy shrug. “Your staff’s kind of clueless, but,” Veronica laughed a little, and tilted her head, watching a young clerk hunt for a book in the wrong section, “they’re kids, and everyone’s still.. New. I still…” Rolling her eyes at Logan’s increasingly-cocky grin, “I still don’t think it’s the _same_.”  
  
    The _feeling_ of a small town bookstore wasn’t anywhere to be found in this place; it was big, and impressive, and vast, but Veronica couldn’t help but look for what she couldn’t find.  
  
    “But it’s not the death of culture and society you expected from me?” Folding his arms across his chest, he _had_ to smile at her, at her glare and all.   
  
    “If you’re gonna gloat, you’re gonna haveta call security.” Veronica taunted, but there was only a _little_ bite behind her bark. Since his apology in Dominick’s, Veronica had been thinking a lot about how she didn’t have to like him, especially personally, but he had shocked her by behaving like a normal person, a normal, capable-of-empathy person.   
  
    “Okay, okay, martinis down, Veronica.” Hands up, surrendering to her, they both laughed a little awkwardly. “You want the grand tour? I _hear_ if you know the owner, there might be a secret stash of cookies in the breakroom.” Rather than derision in her face, he saw a hint of possibility; of _maybe._ _Maybe_ this would be worth it.   
  
    “I’ve… been known to enjoy a cookie from time to time, but I should probably be going. I actually, really shouldn’t be here. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do and…” Exhaling, Veronica eyed the store, and continued, “This is nice, really it is, you’ve done a great job with the place, didn’t this used to be a Baby Gap? I came in here to try and hate it, I wish I could, I kind of don’t, though. But… it’s still… all, open- chest, insert-knife for me, you know? Sharp, sharp pain and gore and expletives you’d be embarrassed by.” Veronica gave a short laugh. “But., I appreciate the cookie offer, and the apology. I _know_ that for you… for you, this wasn’t personal or anything, but…” Meeting his eyes, Veronica couldn’t detect any traces of his signature smirk, it disarmed her a little.   
  
   “For you, it was.” Somberly, he finished for her, and pushed off the bookshelf to stand straight. “I understand. Come back anytime you want, Veronica, really.”  
  
    “Thanks. Maybe I.. will.” Veronica left _Echolls’ Books_ with a chest full of knife-stabbing-pain, and a mind full of mixed thoughts about the store and it’s owner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you allow me a second to be a complete dork, one of my fav books is pride and prejudice (yeah, i know) but during my high school english class, we talked about if elizabeth's visit to darcy's house (and meeting his sister, etc) helped soften her to the idea of him being not-totally awful. personally, i don't think that elizabeth was concerned with his money or how beautiful his stuff was or whatever but i thought the idea of equating pemberly with this big, impressive book store (and logan's apology and all the surrounding charms that frankly, darcy... didn't have when he was being awkward as hell) as helping V to .. sort of mellow out some of the harsh feelings re: Logan Echolls. if he runs this big, wonderful bookstore that she maybe misjudged, maaaybe she misjudged him, too. (of course, he still wrecked her business but yknow, elizabeth hated darcy at first too, cause he insulted her family and thought he was doing her a favor) ///// the end of this ridiculousness, thanks!


	10. Dangerous Woman

 “Seriously? That’s it? He can’t say? _Really_ gonna let that slide?” Wallace fought Back Up for the stick they were playing fetch with on the beach.   
  
    “What do you mean _let it slide_ , we’re _strangers_ , and besides, I want to believe him. I believe him,” She continued with more conviction, “If he has a reason I can’t know… so be it.” Watching Veronica chase the loosed stick, Veronica smoothed wind-blown hair behind her ears. “Besides, he sort of accidentally on-purpose inspired me to start writing again. It’s not like a don’t have savings, and I really have always talked about writing a _real_ book.”  
  
    Since she was a kid, Veronica wrote stories, on and off, encouraged by her dad endlessly, but she’d never kept her pen to the paper long enough to finish anything serious. _CA152_ had been right; not about Canadian alpaca farming, but about the daydreams she’d kept to her peripheral vision for _Mars’ Shop._  
  
    Wallace was fighting Back Up for the stick, again.   
  
     “You know, your dog seriously misses the core concept of fetch. For me to _throw_ it again, he has to give it up; every time.” Giving up, Wallace turned back to Veronica. “And what was that? V. Mars, the writer, rises from the dead? You realize, I can’t be your editor anymore, right? Proofreading that one story with the murdered best friend _still_ gets me choked up; Weevil’s spell-checking your next project. But you should be writing again, that’s good for you, V.”  
  
    “Well, what about you?” Snapping her fingers, Back Up dropped the stick at her feet, and Veronica consequently offered it to Wallace.   
  
    “Really.” He glared.   
  
    “He knows his master,” Veronica gave a wink, and watched Back Up give chase, again.  
  
    “Yeah, right. Just don’t tell me you use that kind of behavioral conditioning on _me._ ” Wallace shook his head, joking at first, and then fearful of the smile on her face.   
  
    “Did I ever take out the store’s trash?” Veronica asked innocently, eyebrows and shoulders raised in a shrug.   
  
    “You’re kidding. Tell me, you’re kidding.”  
  
    The beach, the sun, the lull of the California ocean, not to mention her dog and her best friend? It helped. Things weren’t peachy, but Veronica got to look out into the horizon and not feel lost for a minute; and that helped.   
  
    Taking the long way home helped, too, and dropping her keys on her coffee table, she did something she hadn’t in a couple of days; opened her computer to update _CA152._  
  
_To: CA152,_ __  
__  
_I know it’s been a few days again, since your last email. I’ve sort of been working on the ‘what’s next’ part of what comes next. I don’t know why, but I have this intense desire to trust you; to believe you’re being honest. Of course, it’s still totally plausible that you’re married or something, and I remain an idiot. But for the time being, I’ve decided to pursue our friendship like you aren’t married, and like you mean it when you say you’re sorry. The last few days, I’ve spent living my life how I’ve never once imagined it- getting up at noon, talking only to my dog or my best friends, and writing again. When  I was young- younger- I thought I might give writing books a try; you were right, it’s a good time for me to actually decide what comes next. I may not have chosen to close my store, but I can choose what I do now, and to be honest with you, that’s as terrifying as it is exciting._  
  
    Veronica thought about it, about how her life had been turned upside down; like a snowglobe. Right now, she was just in the time period where things were going to resettle- she just had to find a new place for everything.   
  
_What about you? Any personal problems I can pick apart for you? Technically, I’m unemployed- plenty of free time for me and Back Up to analyze any personal tragedies you have on hand. My one condition, of course, is that now that I’m a writer again, if you end up as fodder for my breakout novel, you only really have yourself to blame._ __  
__  
_From,_ __  
_Shopgirl_ __  
__  
_P. S.  Back Up’s really more of an only child- and I don’t know my alpacas from my llamas. You’ve outdone yourself on the awful scale._ __  
__  
__  
     Hitting send and sighing, Veronica still couldn’t help but wonder.   
__  
“Am I setting myself up for a big, ugly fall? Huh, boy?” Scratching Back Up’s chin Veronica wanted to laugh; recently, when she felt stressed, she’d type out a message to _CA152_ and feel better. Turning her brain off to the curiosity of her _old friend,_ was never going to be possible. Opening herself up to him, even waiting in that coffee shop, Veronica blinked at herself at those signs of openness, those risks. She didn’t think of herself as particularly inclined to call the dangerous play, but she’d been changing the way she thought of herself lately. Trusting this _old friend_ , this _maybe,_ felt like playing chicken with herself; and how could she ever really win like that?  
  
_To: CA152,_ __  
__  
_The hardest part about not knowing who you are now and wanting to trust you, is not being able to tell if it’d be easier to believe you if I did know you. Does that make any sense? Yes, radio silence for days and now I’m clogging your inbox._ __  
__  
_From,_ __  
_Shopgirl_ __  
__  
    “See? Way better, just with that.” Smiling to herself finally, Veronica signed off; sure, no job, no boyfriend, and only a tiny clue into the rest of her life. But wasn’t that more than she had last week?


	11. Beach Day

     Lips pursed, puffing an exasperated sigh out of them, Logan scrolled through his new emails. The words _sharp, sharp pain_ , were still rolling around in his brain, lolling from side to side like loaded marbles. She sounded better, lighter almost, than her previous emails, and at least he hadn’t had to read how he was stabbing her in the chest or causing her some other physical distress. He hadn’t known she’d meant to write; it made sense to him. Bookseller with good intuition, a stubbornness, a wit, and weren’t their emails sort of like writing? He could only hope he’d get to read her work someday.   
  
    What sat at the back of Logan’s throat in a scratchy little lump, was her second email. _Shopgirl_ debating with herself, wondering how to settle her email penpal _CA152_ with a real person and all those ugly implications of who he could be, and who he really was. What was that line from _Romeo and Juliet? ‘Wherefore art thou, Romeo?’_ If he could be anyone else for her... Logan shook his head at himself, knowing he would.   
  
    Rereading her second email, it’s still a question he can’t answer for her. Too suddenly, his office felt too small, too _Echolls._ In addition to a cookie stash, sometimes being the boss had other perks; waving his end-of-day to Dick on the way out, Logan left.   
  
     Crisp, sea air in his lungs, hot sand burning the soles of his feet; out here, Logan could breathe. Neptune’s beach wasn’t paradise, Logan purposefully left his rose-colored sunglasses at the office- litter, discarded beer bottles, old fire pits, scattered the beach, but at the end of the day (or at dawn), the edge of this water felt more like home than home to him.   
  
    Without warning, a big dog tackled Logan, and proceeded to lick (slobber- there was definite slobber action)his face, Logan’s desperate pleas for relief falling on deaf ears until-   
  
    “Back Up, chill!” Veronica called, and was relieved when her dog listened.   
  
    With the weight of paws on his chest gone, Logan sat up to see Veronica Mars running towards him.   
  
    “I’m so sorry, I swear he _never_ does th- Logan? What are you doing here? Don’t tell me we’re _both_ unemployed.”   
  
    Reaching his hand up to her, it surprised him when she helped him to his feet.   
  
    “Thank you. Actually, no, still employed, you caught me playing hooky; needed a surf break, as _cliche_ as that sounds.” Meeting her here, Logan made a snap judgement to play with a half-baked idea. Skipping watching her face for a reaction, Logan bent down to Back Up to introduce himself, formally this time. “Hey there, buddy. She told you to attack, didn’t she?” When Logan looked up, Veronica laughed, and it looked as if she might be at home out here, too. California girl after all, Logan thought.   
  
   “Absolutely right. My direct orders were ‘maul’ and ‘feast’ but Back Up’s good-cop, believe me.” Not to be distracted by Logan Echolls’ ab situation, Veronica kept her eyes elsewhere; deciding she didn’t have to personally hate him and _gawking_ needed a little more space between them, Veronica figured.   
  
     _Of course,_ Shopgirl plays bad-cop to a pitbull, Logan shook his head, laughing. Standing next to her again, her cheeks looked pinker, her smile brighter, and _notepad_ , Logan’s eyes zeroed in.   
  
    “I should- we should go,” Veronica nodded at Back Up. “Let you get back to your hardly workin’ and everything,” she laughed.   
  
     “You look good,” Logan spit out, and ah, damn that severed link between his brain and his mouth. Veronica froze in her place, and he couldn’t help but smile. “I mean- you know, like-”   
  
    With a flourish of her fingers and a shrug, Veronica silenced him.   
  
    “It’s...not like we’re exes or something, you don’t haveta-” Stepping back, Veronica felt her cheeks warm as she remembered the night they’d met. _That was me flirting with you, but if you can”t tell the difference-_ Not seeing Logan Echolls as the godzilla monster tearing through Mars-ville, eating all the innocent, little citizens was enough; she could do that. She didn’t have to stand on the beach with him while he was half-naked and they smiled at eachother. Why was she still smiling?   
  
    “I mean it, though. It… you look…” Pretending he wasn’t hearing the thunk of _sharp, sharp pain_ marbles hitting the sides of his skull was easier said than done.   
  
    “What?” Veronica prompted, smile gone tentative.   
  
    “It’s just, I’m sorry you’re out of a job and I know it _wasn’t your choice,_ but…” Breathing unspeakably easier, Logan was so glad to run into her here, to see her like this, today. “Well, I know it’s complicated, but you look _less_ knife-in-your-chest than last week. I’m just glad for you, that’s all.” Running a hand through his hair, Logan squinted into direct sunlight, and silence ruled the day for a few seconds.   
  
    Tucking hair behind her ear, Veronica wondered what she’d looked like last week in _Echolls’ Books_ , but she had to admit he was right- she was feeling better, more hopeful- making progress writing, even.   
  
    “I’m...well, thanks I guess, for saying that.” Even as she was speaking, Veronica wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.   
  
    “I’ll let you get back to your…” Logan pointed towards the notepad, minutely relishing the look on her face.   
  
    “Oh, writing, actually. Unemployed writer, I know all the jokes,” Clipping Back Up’s leash to his collar, Veronica figured Logan Echolls being this nice had meant she’d had just about enough sun for one day.   
  
    “I think that’s incredible; good for you, Veronica.” He remembered her claiming to feel foolish, to feel ridiculous for pushing her luck, but Logan laughed internally as his tendency to do just that apparently knew no bounds. Pushing his luck? Second nature. The look on her face was still worth it; off-guard for sure, and surprised, but she definitely wasn’t wearing her throwing-a-drink face. That was something he could hold onto. “I guess I’ll.. see you around. You too, Back Up; feel free to maul me _anytime._ ”   
  
  “Sorry about that, really.” Veronica clicked her tongue at her dog.  Nodding slightly, she waved her goodbye and started leading Back Up away. Watching her leave, Logan had to smile; at this rate, he wouldn’t even get the chance to offer her his still beating heart, at any minute he half expected her to reach into his chest and grab it. _Bad-cop to a pitbull,_ he smiled. _Bad-cop to a pitbull._


	12. Familiar and Strange

_To: Shopgirl,_

_Your second email is actually the question I’ve been afraid of knowing the answer to. Would you even like me in real life? (I’m told the kids call it ‘IRL’) I’m sure I’d love you, I’m sure of it, but it’s your verdict I’m worried about. You sound like you’re well on your way to ‘what’s next,’ so how is it so far?_

_There is one (1) personal problem maybe you and Back Up can chew on a little for me; today, I skipped work to clear my head by the shore. Isn’t there just something about the ocean that makes everything seem sort of trivial? Not to get too existential on you, but have you ever been in a position in the world, in your life, so simultaneously familiar yet strange? Like everyday’s on edge, but it’s enjoyable almost? Let me know what Back Up thinks, too. A dog’s perspective could really help here._

_From,_   
_CA152_

    _P.S. Nobody’s put a ring on this, yet._

 

    A plethora of things to swallow at once, Veronica took a second read-through of the email, second guessing innuendos that could've meant nothing; coincidences that could've meant nothing. Next to her, Mac munched on a bag of Doritos and cleared her throat.

    “Everything alright, V?” Mac, slouched on Veronica’s couch, was happily vacationing in unemployment-land. Sad to see the end of Mars’ Shop, Mac definitely missed seeing Veronica and Wallace everyday, but she’d had a job since she was fifteen, and savings meant she didn’t have to jump back into the workforce just yet. She had a little time to eat Doritos on Veronica’s couch while trying not to laugh at her friend’s face gone pensive.

     Swivelling her laptop to Mac, Veronica contemplated.

     “Mystery aol man? Mmm… he sounds funny. What am I looking at here?” Crunching the last crumbs from the bag, Mac watched Veronica’s critical-thinking face take over, and scrolled through the email again. “He’s sure he’d love you? Kinda forward for a stranger, huh? How close are you two, anyway; you know Wallace thinks this guy’s some kind of California answer to a teched-up Jack the Ripper.” Mac laughed at the glare Veronica shot her. “Too graphic?”

     “Maybe a bit.” Veronica shook her head. “Hey, have you seen the inside of Echolls’ Books yet?”

     “Have I? No. Thought we were doing that whole blacklist-in-solidarity and hatred thing. Unless something’s changed?”

     “I checked it out once. But yeah, something might’ve.” Veronica’s contemplative smile never left her face, and she never met Mac’s eyes. “Wanna come run an errand?”

     “Sure; you wanna answer your digitial boyfriend first?” Mac pointed to the laptop.

     “Oh, yeah.” Veronica sat to type.

    _To: CA152,_

_No Mrs. CA152, then? I’m a little relieved, to be honest with you. Re: your existential dread, Back Up suggests a good chewing bone, a nap, and a tummy rub, but I think he’s a little more invested in the action of life than it’s contemplation. I, on the other hand, have gotten to a point where my “place in the world” so to speak, has nearly dropped off the map, and I really feel like it’s helped me with the “place in my life” parts, maybe. As for enjoying the ‘on-edge’ parts of life, maybe you really should find that Masochist’s Chatroom._

_From,_   
_Shopgirl_

      Pressing send, Veronica smiled; maybe not all on-edge moments of life had to be horrific, but maybe she should leave her verdict on that for later, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short chapter, but today's gonna be a multi-post day. had too much life stuff over the weekend, but i'm gonna make it up to you


	13. Lucky 13

    Heels clicking the pavement, and questions hot on her tongue, Veronica willed her blood to simmer rather than boil. She wasn’t angry so much as surprised- thrown; of course, clicking each edge of the puzzle together with a snap, helped. But how could she litmus test _CA152?_ If her hunch was correct, he’d been tossing her hints for awhile, breadcrumbs for her to follow all the way to his door. Did she want to follow? Leaving things half done wasn’t her style, and besides, they were already at _Echolls’ Books._  
  
    Heartbeat to a steady thump, Veronica figured that was probably the best she could hope for now- and where was _the boss?_   
  
    “It’s definitely...big,” MAc eyed the tech books section, still unsure of where they were at as far their team stance on _Echolls’ Books._ Veronica’s nod helped clear it up, though.   
  
_“Go,_ I’ll meet up with you,” Veronica teased, and then, up on the second floor balcony, she spotted Logan, and lost the train of thought that had been so full-speed-ahead on the way over. He waved, casually, smiling at her, and she went for the escalator.   
  
    “No hooky today?” Veronica took a stiff breath, really looking at him- like any mannerism would be a tell, any blink a clue, the smallest nod an insight into _was he_ or _wasn’t he._  
  
    “I was thinking about calling in as the victim of  a vicious dog attack, but my work ethic prevailed.” Logan laughed at himself, giving her the softball setup; he could think of ten cracks about his work ethic, and he was sure she could think up twenty.   
  
    “Any...reason you took off yesterday?” Again, Veronica felt her body warm with rushing blood, like she had just gone for a run or something. Confirming her suspicions, without making him suspicious, was supposed to be the nature of her game, but there were so many things she was dying to know.   
  
    Logan balked at her question, wondering if she was taking _CA152’s_ bait, or just making the relevant conversation. Her smile was tight at the corners, her eyes focused on him; and he was flattered to have caught her attention, either way.   
  
    “You know, being cooped up in the office and stuff, needed a surf break. Some people smoke, I guess I-”  
  
    “Cliche,” Veronica interrupted in a hush, snapping another piece of the puzzle into it’s place. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to throw him against a wall and kiss him, or throw him down the escalator and mourn what could’ve been. _If_ it could’ve been, she reminded herself.   
  
    “What?” Logan barely caught her talking under her breath, about cliches. “Yeah, a Californian who loves to surf to blow off steam. _I’ve heard all the jokes,_ ” He leaned down to her, looking for something like recognition in her eyes, but only mystery stormed them. “You know, I wasn’t expecting to run into you two days in a row.” Running a hand through his hair, half of him expected her to scream it out- scream everything out into the open, into existence, and decide if she hated him after all. And half of him expected her to slowly back out of his store and never contact him again.   
  
    “Yeah, cliche, _right._ ” Veronica fought to keep her voice casual, light even, but she was sure she didn’t natural; his worried lip told her as much. _Not_ that she was spending much time looking at his lips. “Actually, I’m here, looking for a book. A book on internet dating.”  
  
    Logan’s eyebrows only jumped a second, before he nodded.   
  
    “Internet dating? Does that um, work?” For the first time since Dominick’s, Logan felt himself in the dark, with Veronica leading him around by the nose; and it was exhilarating.   
  
    “You know, I haven’t decided yet.” Veronica replied, non-committal, with a shrug to boot. “Actually,  the night we had coffee, I was waiting for an internet date; sort of. An internet-coffee, I guess you could say.” Keeping her eyes focused on the floor, Veronica didn’t watch his face for a reaction now; if she was going to smoke out _CA152,_ she was going to use a lot of smoke. “Do you remember what you said about him?”  
  
    “That only a fool would keep you waiting?” Logan turned his head to her, leading her to where he thought they might find a book on a internet dating.   
  
    “Cute. You said, that if he showed up, he’d have to sit with me; no matter how bad an idea.” Punctuating her words with maybe more _punch_ than strictly necessary, Veronica felt she could almost see the whole puzzle together, like an image was finally coming through. “I think you may have had a point there.”   
  
    Now when Logan looked into her eyes, all fierce blue, recognition did shine through; but that was the only read they afforded.   
  
    “Interesting. I can order that book for you, seems we’re out of stock.” Tapping his hands against the empty space on the shelf, mentally Logan begged her to keep going; to not take his end for an ending. He couldn’t confirm her worst nightmare outloud, that her hated enemy and her online friend were one Jekyll-Hyde combination. But he wished she’d say it, say something.  
  
    “Right. Well, thanks.” Abruptly, Veronica shook his hand without meeting his eyes, letting her fingers linger against soft skin, until she broke contact and sped off in search of Mac. It was seriously time to go; even if Veronica wasn’t totally sure of what she’d found out.   
  
    When she arrived home, a new mail blinked it’s greeting on her laptop, and Veronica could only take a deep breath and click to open it’s contents.   
  
_To: Shopgirl,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Do you still think we should meet?_ _  
_ _  
_ _From,_ _  
_ _CA152_ _  
_ _  
_ _  
_Only taking seconds to think about it, to really ask herself that question, Veronica furiously typed her brief answer.  
  
 _To: CA152,_ _  
_ _  
_ _I do._ _  
_ _  
_ _From,_ _  
_ __Shopgirl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> normally i like to make the chapter titles at least somewhat relevant, but this chapter was Lucky 13 in my notes, so i decided to keep that.


	14. Juliet Says, "Hey, it's Romeo"

    In his head, rationally, Logan knew there was the distinct possibility that her saying yes to meeting  _ CA152 _ wasn’t an explicit confirmation that she was saying  _ yes _ , to him, to Logan. But breathless at her doorstep, Logan was never more dismissive of the rational. And he  _ felt _ it, he  _ felt  _ it that she knew, that even if she was lining up her martinis, getting ready to make him pay, her knowing was better than her not. Bracing himself with a breath, he knocked three times, and waited for what felt like forever.    
  
    Swinging the door open, wet hair clinging to her face, Veronica wasn’t sure what to say, how to start, if they were even the same person to each other.    
  
    “I, um, found that book for you.” Knuckles white from gripping it so hard, Logan touted the internet dating guide as a flimsy excuse, meant to be  Plan B but nothing about this had gone according to anything like a plan.    
  
    “It’s you.” Veronica asked without asking, and got a nod from him as a response.    
  
    Lump balled tight in his throat, Logan pictured her face one more time in that daydream, across his kitchen, in his shirt, sharing coffee, smiling.    
  
   “You… listened to me whine, you made me laugh, you gave me advice.”   Breathlessly, Veronica let her thoughts fall from her mouth, as easily as if she’d been typing them out. He nodded again, answering without answering.  “You.. you lied to me. You tricked me. I was supposed to hate you. You did all of that? You listened to my bad days, you  _ couldn’t tell me _ why you stood me up when you hadn’t stood me up at all? You let me think you didn’t care?”   
  
    Eyes threatening to tear, Veronica shook her head, thrown by his identity, by the tears in his eyes, by his silence.    
  
    “Well, say  _ something. _ You love me?” It was out of her mouth before she could catch it, the question she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer to, the accusation she’d never meant to make- when his face changed. Changed to something like hopeful, instead of mournful.    
  
    “Yes. I did all of those things. The awful advice, the bad jokes, the coffee. Yes, I love you, Veronica. I’m sorry, for... “ Interrupted by a sudden spring of movement, and fingers pressed against his lips, Logan froze, staring down at her.    
  
    So, that was it; mystery revealed, smoke cleared from the room,  _ CA152 _ was Logan Echolls, and Logan Echolls was  _ CA152, _ there was no other way about it. She still had questions, none so important as her last few; as her last one.    
  
    “Are there any other alter-egos I need to worry about?” She let herself half-smile, crooked and unsure.    
  
    “Have you ever seen me and Batman in the same room?” He spoke with her fingers held to his lips, vowels smashed and dented.    
  
   At her laugh, Logan stopped holding his breath, stopped waiting for the shoe to drop. 


	15. How Breakfast Really Is

     Blinking her eyes open slowly, Veronica could just barely hear the  _click-click-clicking_ of Back Up's toes across the kitchen's tiles, and the hum of Logan's voice talking through his breakfast ritual. Any second she was going to smell pancakes and her feet would lead her out of his bed. Most nights she'd taken to sleeping on the houseboat; wrong in principle only, (because  _seriously? a houseboat? with cleaning ladies?)_ but his bed's bigger, and fluffier, and that wins out with her. 3..2..1...Pancake aroma taking effect.   
  
     "Yeah, there you go, bud," Dropping Back Up's breakfast plate to him, Logan turned to catch Veronica, stifling a yawn, and meandering into the kitchen barefoot. "Morning, sunshine."  
  
     "I didn't hear you guys leave at all, how was the beach?" Voice thick with the lingering effects of too-much-comfort-in-a-too-big-bed, Veronica smiled through it. Over the past couple months of dating, and quasi-living-together, a weird sort of routine became comfortable; with Logan taking Back Up to the beach at an ungodly hour Veronica wasn't sure really existed. And then they'd have breakfast, and go to work, or Veronica would stay and write. But the domestic bliss of routine and comfort isn't on her mind this morning.  
  
     Bringing her face to his, Logan kissed the corner of her mouth good morning, and handed her a plate of pancakes to stave off her mocking her own morning breath.   
  
     That vision, of a Veronica across his breakfast table, isn't at all like their reality; she mostly wears her own clothes to breakfast, and a smile has to be placated out of her with food and coffee. Her hair's always loose around her shoulders, more like a mane than ever, and even after months, sometimes she still gets ashamed of her morning breath. It's not really like Logan pictured before he knew her but, in uncountable ways, it's better.   
  
     "I think Back Up's really getting the  _hang_ of  _hanging ten,_ " Logan winked, and took his spot across the table from her. Decidedly too far, but she hasn't had nearly enough coffee yet. "How are you feeling?" Stealing her coffee-stirring spoon to stir cream into his, the glimmer of her blue eyes about to roll at him made him smile.   
  
     Of course, she'd made a brilliant writer; driven, funny, smart. She may have loved being a bookseller, and sometimes she still helped out at  _Echolls' Books,_ but writing crime felt like home now, too. Even if it kept her up way past her bedtime sometimes.   
  
     "I'm fine, I'm ready, I think," She winked back at him. "There  _is_ the possibility that it's not very good, or no one will like it, or no one will try to find out  _if_ they like it- I'm fine, really, you don't have to make 'but-face.'" She laughed at his but-face turned frown and went on to explain, "You're about to say, ' _but_ , Veronica, everyone will love it, and they'll buy it, and you'll write a best selling novel every two years until you  _die._ '" She dropped her voice to do a cartoon-y impression of him, and almost lost it to laughing halfway through.   
  
     "A hit novel every two years.... 40 best sellers? That sounds like some sort of record to me." Logan sipped his coffee; he  _had_ been planning to start a 'but, Veronica'... that didn't mean he had 'but-face.'  
  
     "You want me to live til I'm a hundred and ten?" Veronica giggled, mouth sticky from pancake syrup. "And yet, you ply my affections with sugary breakfasts.  _This_ oncoming heart attack isn't screaming triple digits; that's good though, because I definitely don't have forty best-sellers in me."  
  
     "Ah, shoot, you're right. Starting tomorrow, quinoa pancakes only. We become true-blue, cliche Californians, the full-transformation, no backsies; triple digits only." Logan mocked crossing his heart, as her eyes widened.  
  
     "No more sugary pancake breakfasts? I'm not sure if this gonna work out..." Pointing between them and feigning contemplation, Veronica laughed out her nerves. Maybe today  _would_ go well; launching her first book at her boyfriend's store, Veronica felt a far-cry away from the lost girl who'd had her store stolen by the big bad wolf. Part of her missed her dad more now, wished he could've seen all the nasty, R-rated, adult content fake murders she'd come to orchestrate and solve in ink. The underhanded, sideways villains who never got the girl, and the heroes who solved their dastardly shenanigans.   
  
     "Pshh, you forget, I know you too, Veronica. Breakfast? You can go without. No dessert, though? I'd be a dead man." Popping the last strip of bacon in his mouth, they've just about neared the end of today's comfort and domestic bliss. Smiling at her, he shook his head. "Ready to show the world the depths of your twisted mind?" He teased.   
  
     Getting up to drop her breakfast plate in the sink, then she sidled to his lap and leaned her body into his.   
  
     "Hey, you proofread it and you still have sex with me, what does that say about you?" Kissing his cheek, Veronica started mentally rummaging through the drawers in his place where the shirt she wanted to wear might be. There would probably be a  _whole press conference_ to smile for and people that frequented cocktail parties to shake hands with, and probably lots of people who might not like her work. At some point, like letting go of  _Mars' Shop_ and sleeping with the enemy, (the cute, pancake providing kind), Veronica just had to be okay with that. Today had to be that point. Using his shoulders to push off, feeling his body heat a second longer, she padded her barefeet back to their bedroom; every step closer to that point.  
  
     "Hey, I'm a Freudian nightmare you know this about me," Logan called after her as she went to get dressed. 


	16. I Think It's About

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (forgiveness)

    “First of all, thank you all for coming, I felt silly enough preparing a few words, I would’ve felt incredibly silly to have to read it to a room full of only books,” Veronica paused at chuckles, saving a smile across the room for Logan. “Thank you, is actually really the only words I came up with for tonight- regardless of what it says on the covers, books are not written by singular people, books are written by one person having an idea and the time to follow it, with a whole support system behind them.” Eyes glittering around the room, she saw Logan, Mac, Wallace, Weevil, and even Dick, and Veronica Mars is  _ not _ about to get emotional at a book launch, even her’s; she  _ isn’t _ .   
  
     “A long-time friend who’s a brilliant publisher, best friends who support your blind leap…  _ and _ answer 3 AM phone calls about serial killers,  _ seriously _ Mac, I owe you, and having someone by your side keeping your head on straight… are  _ all _ necessary components to writing a book, and I couldn’t have done it alone.” Winking at Logan, Veronica thought about the movie nights she’d made them watch thrillers or biopics, the mornings he’d find her still up writing from the day before, and of course, the reason they were all standing here at all…   
  
    “Losing my bookstore almost a year ago, felt like it was going to be the end of my life,” Veronica remembered stabbing pain in her chest, “but really, it was just the end of a chapter of it. Thank you, again, for being here for the start to a new one. I  _ hope _ you don’t mind if I secretly hope to give at least  _ some _ of you nightmares.” She choked out a laugh and let the launch resume, spotting Logan by the refreshments table.    
  
    “ _ These _ parties really are all the same, aren’t they?” She pressed rewind on a memory with mixed meanings now.    
  
    “Ah, yes,” Logan laughed. “What was it? Stuck up people with bad taste in books?” He talked into her ear, pulling her close, and kissed her cheek, earning him a playful slap on the arm.    
  
    “I did _ not  _ say it like that. That was before I knew who you were, I was definitely nicer than that,” She laughed, shaking her head. In her heels, she was taller than she was used to being against him. Pulling him down to kiss him was easier, with the shortened height differential.    
  
    “I like this ending better,” Laughing into her hair, he remembered stinking like alcohol in a wet suit.    
  
    “I’m sure there’s very throwable booze around here somewhere, you should probably still be careful,” Arms wrapped around his shoulders, Veronica was sure she was supposed to be mingling or signing books or taking pictures with local bookpeople- but she figured she had time for another long kiss. And another.    
  
    “Good thing I brought a present then,” Leaning away from her for a second, to retrieve a box from his suit pocket, Logan presented a small, velvet box. Unassuming, but Logan still found himself holding his breath. “Here. A congratulations present; something I’ve wanted to give you for like.. Six months.” Almost sheepishly, Logan slipped the box into her hands. “Don’t be nervous, you have  _ nervous-face _ ,” He teased.    
  
    Opening the box, Veronica found a small silver key, with the word  _ Shopgirl _ engraved in it’s top.    
  
    “I know it’s not a pony like you’ve been dreaming of, but it’s the skeleton key for the houseboat. Mi casa es officially su casa, providing you-”   
  
   “I love it.” Smoothing her thumbnail over the engraving, Veronica laughed to herself.    
  
    Over her shoulder, Dick caught a beam of light reflecting off the key, and laughed, too.    
  
    “So the houseboat’s not a dealbreaker? Really?” Dick teased, hanging an arm over Logan.    
  
    “Hey! You used to say it was my best quality!” Logan cried.    
  
    “Dude,  _ V’s _ your best quality,” Winking to Veronica, Dick shook his head. “But seriously, if I ever see you pick up a kitchen knife around me, I’m so out of there.”    
  
    “Aww did  _ Underbelly  _ scare somebody?” Veronica sing-songed, still admiring her shiny, new key.    
  
    Dick just shook his head and went after a cocktail waitress.    
  
    “It’s a weird sign that I find that flattering right?” Veronica tucked herself back into Logan’s side, and the key into her dress’ pocket.    
  
    “Please tell me you’re gonna start waving knives around him all the time.” Wrapping a hand over her back, Logan took a long look around the room, at the people she’d brought here, the people her work brought together. Running his fingers against the back of her dress, Logan kissed the top of her head, realizing how empty this room, and his life would be without her. Without  _ Shopgirl.  _ Without Veronica Mars. “Does this mean you forgive me?” He asked too quietly, and abruptly Veronica pulled back, confused.    
  
    “For what?”   
  
    “Your dad’s store; I mean, I know it’s not, the  _ same _ , our lives now- your life now, and I’m so proud of you, but-” The second he’d walked into Dominick’s, he’d risked everything to know her, know her better, to get to love her, and she had been right that night about something. “I mean, I have everything I want. You still lost something, because of me.”   
  
    Looking up at him, Veronica chewed her lip.   
  
    “I’m glad it was you,” She said, finally. “If it wasn’t, somebody else would’ve come along, somebody worse, who didn’t care about Neptune, or books at  _ all _ , and definitely wouldn’t have handled the transition quite the way you did…” Veronica laughed. “ _ CA152.” _ She added. “Of course, I forgive you; it was hard, but everything I lost you gave me back,” Veronica shrugged. “Sense of purpose?  _ Fun,  _ even? You don’t have to worry about that, I’m done throwing martinis at you, Logan.” Grabbing the edges of his shirt, Veronica pulled his mouth down to hers again, and  _ really  _ she has a party to attend to but this is more important. Hearing her name called across the room, Veronica broke their kiss, eventually. “I’m gonna go see what that’s about. Stay away from the shrimp,” She winked.    
  
    “Yes, ma’am.”   
  
    “Oh wait, by the  _ way _ , I keep forgetting to ask,” Veronica inched back to his side. “What  _ does _ the 152 stand for? 152….times you… I don’t know, what?”   
  
    “152.” Logan pointed around the room. “Address of the store,” He laughed at her face, gone incredulous.    
  
    “You’re kidding me.”


End file.
